It Wasn't The First Time
by xSeshatx
Summary: {Possible continuation in the future} It wasn't the first time Merle left him, but what if this time it's permanent? Shane opened the barn, but this time Sophia didn't come out. Instead of Sophia, it was Merle: Daryl's brother and only living family left. For now.
1. Chapter 1

Not much can physically upset him. There are a very few things that could get an emotion out of him other than anger. For example, he showed a soft spot for Carol, especially when it came to looking for her little girl. He would never ever admit it to himself but he cared for her and her daughter. He wanted to make her happy and fix whatever mistakes were made the night Rick lost her. He didn't blame the poor guy by no means - lord only knows he wouldn't be able to make half the decisions that man had made. Whenever something upset him he lashed out. He lashed out at Carol more than a few times, and boy the guilt sure was hard to handle but he managed. He knew she understood; Carol was the type to always understand.

He hadn't even considered the possibility that he would know any geek in that barn. They never thought that maybe they'll run across an old friend while surviving this apocalypse. The only time they ever checked the walker to make sure it wasn't somebody they knew was when they were out looking for Sophia. There was a great chance she had already turned and they all knew it, but Daryl didn't acknowledge the idea. That's just the way he worked. It made surviving easier, if only barely. He knew how much it hurt to lose somebody. Everybody knew that. Andrea lost her sister right in front of her own eyes! Everybody witnessed death and knew what it was like to lose someone. Daryl and Carol were different than the rest of them. They lost people but had no idea if they were dead, alive, or the dead coming back to life. Maybe that's why he searched to find the girl as hard as he did.

Everybody on that farm fell quiet. Some of their group thought that what Shane had did was the right thing to do and there were people who thought he had completely lost his mind, but he couldn't tell who stood on what side just yet. Obviously the folk who owned the farm thought he lost it, and then there was Andrea. The bitch was all over Shane and thought he walked on water or some shit. It annoyed Daryl, but he had no right to say anything. As outspoken as he was he had no business in their lives as long as they weren't affecting him. Surveying the situation at hand Daryl decided that Shane did the right thing in the wrong way. There had to have been easier ways to handle a barn full of walkers instead of screaming and breaking the door down the way he did. The man was almost mental.

The air grew more tense with each passing second and he was just about to say something when the familiar sound of someone walking caught their ears. Weapons were raised and everybody focused in on the impending threat. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't had a brief moment where he considered the possibility of Sophia stepping out of the barn or coming out of the trees. He hoped it was that easy. Whether they found her dead or alive at least they knew where she was and could stop looking. But it wasn't Sophia. The next sound - a loud, inhuman moan - told them that it was definitely a walker and they looked pointedly at the barn as they waited for the beast to show itself. After a few long moments, it did.

Daryl didn't recognize the walker at first. At least that's what he told himself. He didn't lower his gun but his hands started to shake as what was going on slipped away from him. He was staring into his brother's eyes, and for a brief moment they were the normal dark blue he was used to seeing. He gave him that lopsided smirk of his and Daryl almost found himself grinning back before a groan left his brother's mouth and he returned to what was really going on. His brother's eyes weren't staring at him - it was a monster. He had his faults and everybody knew it, but he wasn't a monster. He looked after Daryl and took part in raising him - albeit barely. He probably wouldn't be as tough as he was if it wasn't for him. But staring at his brother's defiled body like that took all the strength away from him and he finally lowered his weapon slightly.

"Merle…" he whispered. He felt his heart rate increase and his breathing was labored. After all those years growing up with the danger inside their home Merle had made sure he survived. He protected him at home from their father and, when need be, their mother before he finally got fed up and left home. Daryl barely noticed because he was hardly at home as it was - always getting locked up for something or another - but he was still there. Even when they found that Merle had escaped he was still there. His brother had made it away so what in the hell was he doing there at that farm?

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Shane bracing himself and he knew that the prick was about to pull the trigger. Instinctively, he turned and fixated the gun directly at Shane's head. "Daryl," Rick warned, pocketing his own weapon and taking a step towards the hunter, "don't do this. I know you're upset, but-"

"I want to do it myself," he said and tried to keep his voice as menacing as possible but not being able to prevent the crack from slipping out as he took in the entirety of the situation. His brother was dead and was going to try to kill him any second. They've had their fair share of fights. Hell, they were usually going at each other at least once a day whenever they were near one another. Killing his brother, though, was so much more different, but he told himself it wasn't his brother. Not anymore.

Daryl didn't take his eyes off of Shane but was still able to see Rick. He took in the way the man barely exhaled and gave a short nod. He knew that Rick probably was relieved that he wasn't going to go off the deep end and blame him for what happened. If the two hadn't gotten to know each other slightly, Daryl would have had the gun at his head instead of Shane's. He would've pulled the trigger and not cared if he died at that point. Rick is the one who had handcuffed his brother and was to blame for his death, but even Daryl knew how unfair thinking like that was. At first, yeah, he blamed Rick completely, but he also knew his brother. His brother was definitely a danger, and the cop had only done it to protect the rest of the group that he hadn't even belonged to at the time. He risked one guy's life to protect the group, and he could tell by the look in Rick's eyes whenever he looked at him that he felt guilty for what happened. Daryl didn't have it in him to blame the leader of his group. He worked on instinct in situations where there was no time to think, and he probably made the right decision to handcuff Merle. Lord knows Merle deserved it.

"Lower your weapon, Shane," Rick said slowly when he saw his best friend turn so he was aiming his gun at Daryl instead of the walker who was limping it's way towards the rest of them. "That's his brother. If he wants to do this then we let him."

After a short, intense stare off, Shane finally dropped his arms and gave Daryl a short nod as if he needed permission to shoot what used to be his kin. He would handle that situation a little later after he dealt with his brother. No, a voice in the back of his head reasoned, that ain't your brother no more. "Do it then," Shane said, taking a step back but keeping a challenging look on his face. He didn't think Daryl had it in him.

As Daryl looked at the gun in his hands and then back at what used to be Merle he noticed how badly he was shaking. The others must have seen it, too, considering how hard his body trembled. If he were alone he would have taken a deep breath to calm himself but he wouldn't show anymore weakness in front of the group than he had to. He took a small, tentative step toward the geek and aimed his gun at the center of it's skull. Part of him wished his group would leave and let him do this alone but he knew if he was in their shoes he wouldn't go anywhere either. As hotheaded as he could be he was probably one of the most reasonable people he knew.

He tried fighting his weakness as hard as he could but it was no use. Tears suddenly pricked his eyes and rolled down his cheeks before he had the chance to stop them. His breath hitched and he knew he was on the edge of a breakdown. Daryl took one more step closer and mentally cursed himself for not having his bow; he would have preferred to do this with his bow. His hands were shaking too much for the gun. But he needed to do this. He would never forgive himself if he let somebody else take out his own blood. It had to be him and no one else.

"I'm sorry, Merle," Daryl sobbed out quietly. "I love ya, brother." Squeezing his eyes shut, he pulled the trigger before he lost the strength to do so. The shot rang out louder than any gunshot before and the unmistakable sound of a body falling to the ground made him flinch. His brother was his lifeline whether they were together or apart. Sure, he took a hell of a lot more beatings from his father because Merle decided to just up and leave him, but when he was just a child he saw his brother take more than a few extra beatings in order to protect him. He wouldn't have made it as far as he had if he didn't have Merle.

Not two seconds after he pulled the trigger he ran towards his tent. Fuck his group. He didn't need sympathetic stares, or anybody telling him that they were sorry, or anything they might try to offer him. Merle was a piece of shit that deserved to die anyways for putting everybody in danger the way he had. He just killed his big brother. So what? He picked up his bow and switched his shotgun for a smaller handgun before dashing deep into the woods. He didn't need to be around those people. He had better things to do.

Like finding Sophia.

There was no way in hell he was going to make Carol go through the same thing he just had. He felt like he was suffocating and it was just his good-for-nothing brother who abandoned him with their father. Sophia was Carol's daughter for fuck's sake! It'd kill her! But he didn't care about anybody other than himself because he was better off that way. Better off not caring.

A jolt when up his spine as he ran and he could hear the crack of his father's belt against his skin. Who would protect him now that Merle was gone? But that didn't make any sense. Merle had been gone before and he had to protect himself as best he could. They were fighting in a world taken over by goddamn walkers and his brain decided that he should remember what life was like before this shit storm blew up. Perfect. He almost snorted.

He couldn't figure out if he was running from his group or his father but not knowing which only made him run faster. He knew he should have been taking it easy because his body was still recovering but fuck that. He'd be fine. He was always fine. He was fine before Merle left and he was fine after. He was fine after the numerous failed murder attempts and he sure as hell was fine when his father was no longer able to hurt him. He'd been fighting off the fucking walking dead and he was still fine. He would always be fine and anybody who thinks otherwise could go right to hell.

It couldn't have been long before Daryl collapsed onto his hands and knees as he threw up every little thing inside of his body, but he knew he wasn't sick. He wasn't in shock from seeing Merle as a walker, either. He wasn't sad and he certainly didn't miss his low-life brother. He had just ran too much on an empty stomach and he threw up. Or maybe he had a full stomach. He couldn't remember, but that had to have been the reason. There was no other possible conclusion.

"SOPHIA!" he screamed as loud as he could as he finally forced his way back to his feet. He was gasping for air but he wasn't giving up on this girl just because his brother happened to get bit. Once he was standing upright he started laughing. He hadn't laughed that hard in god only knows how long, but the problem was he couldn't quite understand what was funny. He racked his brain for the answer but his thoughts jumped from one topic to another, and that's when he realized he was laughing at himself and his goddamn stupidity. He knew better than to run blindly into danger the way he had even if he had a gun and his bow. He was shaking too badly to use either one of them properly, and that also went for his knife. He was fucked if a walker came by. Who knows? Maybe he wanted one to. That only made him laugh more.

He continued to snicker as he made his way more slowly through the trees. His mind was all foggy with thoughts of his father, memories of his brother, and the determination to find Sophia. All those thoughts inside of his head made his heart race but he couldn't cease the laughter. He did, however, take back slight control on the situation and told himself that he could laugh all he wanted as long as he looked for that goddamn girl.

The sound of the sticks cracking beneath his feet only caused his anxiety levels to rise because the sound was eerily similar to the sound of his dad's belt coming in contact with his back. Flashbacks threatened to take over his mind with each step he took but he kept his panic at bay. Just a little bit longer, he told himself. He was not going back to camp without Sophia. He lost his brother and he would not let Carol lose her daughter!

He was no longer laughing as he fell to his knees with his forehead against the dirt. He let out a loud sob that seemed to echo, but he didn't care. He never stopped thinking about Merle, but he wasn't selfish. He knew Merle could take care of himself, so Daryl decided to take care of the group. He didn't want to go to the CDC because his brother had no idea they were going there. What if he came back when they were gone? They weren't ever going to go back there, especially not after what happened. Merle didn't know about the highway or the farm or any of it. Leaving their original camp meant leaving his brother, and he did it because those fucking people needed his help and he couldn't turn his back on them when they had children. He justified his reason to leave and he didn't regret it one bit, but that didn't take away the loneliness he felt when thoughts of his brother crossed his mind. Everybody else, save Carol, was lucky because the people they loved were gone, and that meant they were dead. They didn't have to worry about them or wonder if they should go look for them; they were rotting in the ground. Sophia was missing and Merle had been missing and it was visibly killing Carol. He wondered if it was that obvious for the others that missing his brother was killing him as well.

At first he thought that absolutely nothing would stop his tears, but then he heard a soft voice. It was a girl, obviously young, and the sound was familiar. He lifted his head off of the ground and looked to find the source of the voice when he saw her. Her clothes looked worse than his own after a day full of hunting and her hair was a damn nest. Blood and dirt caked her faces and arms and every other part of her skin that was visible. Hell, he was willing to bet she was just as dirty behind the clothes as well. She had lost so much weight - at least fifteen pounds - and she looked sick. But she was alive. By god, she was alive.

"Sophia?" he whispered, staring at her with wide eyes.

"D-Daryl?" she said, and he realized that she had been saying his name for a while before it registered. "Are you okay? What happened?"

He was on his feet and running towards her so fast that she screamed, or at least tried to, as he picked her up and held her as tight as he could. "We've been lookin' 'erywhere for ya," he said and to his and her surprise found himself crying again. "Are you hurt? Were you bit?"

"No. I ran away from all the zombies," she said and finally hugged him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and held on to him as tightly as she possibly could. "I was so scared."

"I know, sweetheart, I know," Daryl choked out, placing a hand on the back of her head and gently massaging her scalp. That was something Merle used to do for him when they were children when their father was particularly loud. He knew it calmed him down a bit, and it probably still would, so he gave it a shot with Sophia. "What doya say we get ya back to see yer mom? We found a new home."

"How's my momma doing?" Sophia asked, looking at him with big, scared eyes. He gently pushed her head down onto his shoulder. He wasn't being soft and he didn't want to hold her. He was doing it because he didn't know if she'd be able to make the trip back. He didn't want her to overexert herself and pass out or something on the way back. That's all he was doing - looking out for a sick kid.

"Yer momma's doin' just fine. Misses you," he said gruffly, adjusting her slightly so he could walk faster without much problem. He wanted to get her back to the farm as quickly as he possibly. Her mom has gone long enough without seeing her, and she was probably picturing her as Merle. He grunted loudly and wanted to kick himself. He needed to man up and quit being such a goddamn pussy over his brother. "She's worried sick. Best we get ya back to her."

"You were cryin'. Are you okay?" she asked after walking in silence for about ten or so minutes. At least he was walking in silence; she wasn't walking.

"Fuckin' peachy," he grumbled, and he regretted it immediately just like he always did when he was being a dick to Carol. "Yeah, girl, I'm fine. Been a rough day."

"Why?" she asked. Damn her childlike curiosity.

"How 'bout you don't worry 'bout that now, huh?" he said, blowing off her question. It wasn't worth talking about. He wasn't bothered by Merle. He never was. He wasn't bothered by his father either. It was hard for him to breathe because he was walking and carrying a little girl - not because he could hear his father telling him how much of a liability he is and still heard the sound of that damned belt.

He nearly got them lost walking back to the farm. He took pride in being a good hunter and tracker but with his head as messed up as it was he was lucky he even knew they were going in the right direction. But he eventually found his way. He always did. Walking back to their little camp he was spotted immediately, but Sophia went unnoticed from that big of a distance. His group had gathered around a fire-despite the fact that the sun hadn't gone completely down yet- and everyone of them stood up when they saw him approaching.

"We were worried about you," Rick said carefully as he got closer. "We wanted to go look for you but figured you'd be back when you were ready."

"Are you doin' okay?" Lori asked him, avoiding his eyes completely. He snorted. Course he was okay.

"Carol," Daryl said and he found that his voice was softer than he wanted it to be, but he couldn't change that. Despite what he had to do to his own brother he was happy to give somebody else happiness.

"Yes, Daryl?" she said, taking a few more steps closer to him seeing as how he stopped walking. Slowly, he set down Sophia and took a step back. A gasp went through the group and if he thought he moved quick to hug her, she moved twice that speed and grabbed hold of her little girl. "Oh my god, Sophia!" she cried. Everybody else stared either at the two of them or at Daryl, and he couldn't take the stares so he quietly made his way back to his tent. He dropped his weapons carelessly onto the ground before collapsing next to them just in time for the next wave of tears to hit.

The group would forget about him for the night. They had Sophia and she was going to be cared for and looked after and babied. That's alright for her. She was missing for so long so a night full of the people who love her coddling over her would be okay and Daryl couldn't even be annoyed with that. Besides, it took the attention off of himself. It wasn't a shock to be forgotten. He had hoped he would be. That's just the life of Daryl Dixon. He was handed a shitty life from the get go and nothing would ever change. He'd deal with his problems alone like he had been for most of his life. He didn't need anybody there to hold him and tell him how things would get better. He knew things were only going to get worse.

He did what he said he would do; he found Sophia. Everybody was happy once again. Carol didn't have her little girl wondering the woods all alone anymore. She was safe and would remain safe. Nobody else was missing anybody. Merle was taken care of. Tomorrow they'd come see him. He'd be thanked for finding Sophia and he nearly cringed at the thought. He shouldn't be thanked for looking for a little girl who was lost. That was just the right thing to do. Just like the right thing for him to do was get his crying out of the way and move on once daylight hits. He'd go hunting first thing in the morning and continue on his normal living. His brother had left him before. He was always able to adjust.

But, lord, it was never this painful before.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up early the next morning and he was drained of energy completely. All that crying sure had taken a toll on him and he hated himself for it. He couldn't be wasting his energy when he had to keep the group alive. Who else would hunt and collect stuff like berries for everybody to enjoy? That's all he was good for anyways. His own brother had told him that multiple times.

The thought of his brother caused his chest to tighten and for him to suck in a harsh breath. No, he told himself, no more of this shit. He sat up and released the grip on the knife he kept under his pillow before rubbing a hand down his face. It was best to get up as soon as possible before he could give himself the chance to change his mind. He had to get up and hunt, no questions asked. That was his role in the group. The last thing he wanted was to get kicked out just because he stopped providing for them.

Dismissing the idea of a possible breakfast before anybody else woke up was too easy. He usually tried to get something in him before he went out. That way he'd have enough energy to keep going. He was definitely a morning person but even he needed something to bring his energy up at some point in the day. The thought of food made him uncomfortable and made the possibility of throwing up even more likely. He'd rather keep everything inside of him unlike yesterday. Man, he hated throwing up. Felt like a sissy when he did, but that was more than likely because of his family calling him a pussy if he was throwing up for any other reason besides a hangover.

He had almost walked into the trees when a noise from behind startled him. Being in his weak emotional state, he flinched and turned around with his hand reaching for the gun at his side. He froze when he saw who it was that had caught him off guard: it was Sophia, and she jumped back when he turned around so quickly. Poor girl must've thought she was about to get shot. Wouldn't that be something? "What're ya doin' out 'ere, girl? Yer momma's gon' be worried sick if she wakes up and yer not 'ere," he said gruffly, moving his hand away from the gun. He cursed himself mentally - even if he was in danger, the last thing he should do is use his gun. That would cause too much noise and attract walkers.

"I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep," she answered quietly, lowering her eyes so she was staring at the ground in front of Daryl instead of directly at him. He understood her lack of eye contact. He had noticed it when they first met, and after seeing a bruise appear on Carol the morning after he heard Ed and her fighting the night prior he understood. It was easy to tell the signs of domestic abuse, whether it be in a spouse or a child. He made sure to lurk near their tent after that if he heard Ed's voice rising, and he would step in if the little girl was near. Carol should be able to take care of herself, and as much as he felt guilty for ignoring her pain for the most part, he knew she deserved it. She shouldn't be putting her own daughter in situations like that. So he took it upon himself to find a reason to pull Sophia away when he could or simply knock into the tent to let them know that somebody was near and they would usually stop. It was the best that he could do.

"Why's that?" he found himself asking, taking a small step towards the girl so he didn't startle her, and when she looked up at him he put his hands into a defensive position. That was always the best thing to do so whoever was afraid could see his hands. He knew it helped him relax a bit when he was a child.

"I...I'm scared," she admitted, returning to staring at the ground. She also started picking at her shirt, and he found that she was still wearing the same thing she was found in and that she was still covered in dirt. He knew that Carol didn't ignore the fiflth on purpose. She was probably so happy to finally have her daughter back that she didn't notice how dirty she was, and then they both fell asleep before she could do anything about it. He also heard the group talking the night before and realized that Hershel had disappeared on everybody, but Rick and Glenn had brought him back. To make matters worse they brought an extra with them, but he decided that he didn't need to focus on that problem. He had enough to focus on. He knew once everybody was awake and had breakfast Carol would take Sophia to the house to have Hershel check on her. He had never been so glad to have a doctor at the ready for them.

"Ya don't need ta be scared," he said, and an idea hit him right after. Maybe Sophia would be less nervous if he wasn't holding his weapons. Slowly, he reached into his pants and pulled out his gun before laying that on the ground right in front of his tent, and then he did the same thing with his bow. She watched him carefully the entire time. He kept his knife on him, though. Just in case. "How 'bout I get ya somethin' ta eat. Ya hungry?"

She shook her head and this time she didn't look away when she talked. She did, however, avoid looking at his eyes and chose to watch his mouth. That was okay with him. Eye contact could be intimidating to an abuse victim. "I ate a lot last night," she whispered before chewing on the inside of her lip. He pitied her, though he would never admit it. She was too nervous.

"Come sit with me," he said after watching her for a moment. He nodded towards their meal spot and she walked over there without question or argument. He sighed heavily before moving his weapons into his tent and grabbing his own hairbrush, a cloth, and a full bottle of water. He figured the least he could do for the girl was to help her clean up. He ignored his brain reminding him that he did more for her than anyone else.

He joined Sophia a minute later and started up a fire. She was gonna get wet and he wanted to prevent her from getting a cold. After a moment of consideration he went back to his tent and grabbed the shawl he wore when riding Merle's bike. Well, it was a blanket with a hole in the middle of it, but it worked as a shawl just the same. He figured he'd give it to her when he got to her hair. He also picked up one of his other shirts for her to change into so she could get out of at least one dirty article of clothing. When he returned to the fire, he grabbed the cloth and wet it before kneeling down in front of Sophia, who only gave him a confused look. "Yer all dirty," he explained. "Gonna get ya cleaned up a bit."

"Thank you," she said softly when Daryl carefully grabbed her arm and began rubbing the cloth over it. She watched his every move for a few minutes and noted that he was purposefully moving slow. From what she saw of Daryl before she went missing, Daryl was a fast-paced guy who was always rough with everything, but he was being nothing but gentle with her. That made her relax and stop watching him as closely. This made Daryl smile a bit.

"How did ya survive out 'ere so long?" he asked once he moved on to washing her second arm. She began talking in her small voice and explaining what happened to her while she was gone. She explained how she was so scared that she mixed up what Rick had told her. At first, she thought he said to run as soon as he was gone, but then admitted that she later realized he said stay put unless he doesn't come back. She said she remembered to keep the sun on her left shoulder, but then she came across a walker and took off running in a different direction. She kept changing directions every few minutes because she kept finding walkers, but then the sun had started to change move in the sky and keeping the sun on her left shoulder was taking her in a different direction. She didn't realize that until the sun had set. From then, she knew she was definitely lost and that it was her fault, so she didn't blame Rick. She did her best to remain quiet and when she wasn't walking she was hiding up a tree. She found a source of water nearby but knew better than to stay near it. She'd be too tempted to drink it more and more and there was already a dead walker floating in it and she was too scared to drink it so she only did so once a day.

By the end of Sophia's story, Daryl had already rolled up Sophia's pants to a little higher than her knee and finished cleaning down her arms and legs. He realized just how smart the girl was even if she made a few mistakes. Not drinking the water was one of her smartest calls as well as hiding in a tree. Walkers couldn't climb as far as they knew. "Ya did real good," he said, putting his hand on top of her head briefly in order to show her some affection. It must have worked because she smiled and the trust in her eyes grew. "Do ya want me to clean off yer back an' stomach, too?" he asked awkwardly.

She blushed at this when she realized it'd mean she'd have to take her shirt off - or at least raise it up - and she wasn't sure what she should do. But after a moment she nodded because she trusted him. This man wasn't her father. He never gave her looks that made her want to run and hide like her dad did. Daryl had found her, and from what the group had told her the night before he never stopped looking. She owed him enough to trust him. "You can," she consented.

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief at her words because he knew she knew he wouldn't harm her. "What I'ma do is lift yer shirt up in the front to clean off yer belly, an' then get behind ya an' have ya take yer shirt off to get the back," he explained so she knew what he was doing and wouldn't get freaked out. He knew it was best not to catch her by surprise with anything. "Then I have a clean shirt for ya to wear for now. Later on I'm sure yer momma will take ya to see Hershel - he's a doc - an' then make ya take a shower. They got runnin' water 'ere."

"You don't have to help me, you know," she whispered after Daryl lifted the front part of her shirt so her stomach was showing. "I know you did so much to help me. You don't have to do anything else. I'll be okay."

"Nonsense," he said a bit rougher than he meant to. He couldn't help the way he spoke sometimes. He spoke like that naturally and sometimes forgot to tone it down. "I don't mind helpin' ya. Ain't no problem, ya here? Just tell me if ya want me to stop for whatever reason, 'kay?"

"Kay," she agreed and went back to silently watching him. Once he was finished with her stomach, he slowly moved so he was sitting behind her and waited. Once she gathered enough strength to do it, she removed her shirt with shaking hands and then brought her knees up to her chest with her arms snaked around them. He was glad she sat like that because he wouldn't know what to do if someone came out and saw her nearly naked in just her pants and a training bra.

As Daryl started rubbing the cloth down her back he felt her tremble. "Why ya scared?" he asked before he could stop himself. He knew why she was scared, but he was wondering if this was her being a bashful kid or if being exposed was because of her father. He'd lose his mind if he found out he had been touching her while he was alive. It was bad enough to hit a woman or a child; a child molester is a whole different story.

He really didn't expect much of an answer from her, and he thought that she'd be vague at the very least, but what she said caught him by surprise. "Dad sometimes looked at me real weird, ya know? Like how grown-ups on TV looked at each other," she said almost under her breath. "I know what that looks mean; I'm old enough to. It scared me."

Daryl had to swallow hard and take a moment to collect himself before he spoke. He didn't want to scare her so he had to keep his voice calm. "Did 'e e'er do anythin' other 'an look?" he finally asked when he felt he could control his voice well enough. She shook her head no, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good. Did yer dad scare ya often?"

Her body tensed up slightly when Daryl pulled back the strap of her bra long enough to clean underneath it and he didn't say anything during those few seconds or after. He let her collect herself while he wiped down her upper back. Soon, her body got less tense and he heard her take a deep breath before speaking. "Yeah, he scared me a lot. Momma didn't let much happen to me, and when something did happen it was when she wasn't around to stop it. I was usually more scared for her."

The way she said it made Daryl frown even more if that was possible. She spat out her answer in disgust, but it didn't sound like it was directed entirely at her dad. "There ain't nothin' wrong with bein' 'fraid, ya know," he said gently, running the cloth over one shoulder and then the other. "Ain't nothin' to be ashamed of. He was scary."

"Daryl?" she said in a questioning tone, turning her head to look at him. He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, pleased to see she was looking at him in the eyes. Maybe it was because he wasn't towering over her. He tilted his head back to let her know he was listening. "Did your pa ever scare you, too?"

He looked away from her immediately and continued to wipe her down. "Why ya ask?" he finally answered with, unsure of whether or not he should be honest with her. He didn't like talking about what happened to him in his past; him and Merle never talked about it even when they were alone. It made him feel weak to divulge this part of his life with anyone. He was tougher when he grew up than when he was a kid. But, on the other hand, if she felt he related to her then maybe she would talk to him more about the abuse, and he knew it was best to talk about those things, especially as a child. He was pretty hypoctical in that area.

She shrugged and looked down to hide her disappointment. At least he figured that's why she looked down because he still caught that look on her face. "You just seem like you understand. You don't have to answer if you don't wanna."

Sighing, he set the cloth down and picked up his shirt. He cleaned her down the best that he could and hoped it was enough for the moment. "Lift your arms," he said quietly and she listened. He pulled the shirt over her head and let her adjust it herself while he pulled over a chair so he could sit behind her. "I'ma work out this rats nest in yer hair. Might hurt a bit," he grumbled, picking up the water and brush. He poured a small amount of water in her hair before trying to work the brush through it. He was thankful he remembered to start that fire because the wind was blowing slightly and it wasn't the warmest day possible. Being wet in the cold could cause her to be sick. He paused what he was doing to put the shawl over her and watched as she immediately pulled it around herself. She must've been cold.

He started thinking more about what he should say to answer her question. He wanted to tell her yes, but he knew she'd ask questions that he just wasn't ready to hear. It hadn't even been a full day since he lost Merle, and his own past only made him think more about his brother. But he couldn't just ignore her. He sighed again before shaking his head to himself and talking. "Yeah, m'dad scared me plenty," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly along with his hands. Sophia felt it but kept quiet. She knew better than to interrupt; it'd make what he was gonna say harder for him to say it. "Still does if I'm bein' honest. But he's dead, too, just like yer ol' man, 'cept he died 'fore the dead started comin' back. Used ta beat on me an' Merle a lot until Merle left, 'en it was just me."

"Does it ever get easier handling it? I'm tired of the nightmares," she said, and he could hear in her voice that she was crying. He tried to fight back his own tears as well.

"Yeah, girl, it gets easier. Some days are still a pain, but overall it's easier," he answered, deciding to be truthful. It got easier, of course, but he didn't say it was easy. He hoped she caught on to that without him having to say it. He was always straightforward with things, but he couldn't be with this one, and it wasn't for his own good. He didn't want to make things worse on her. "Once I got old 'nuff, me an' Merle were together a lot more. Made me feel better that he was there, cause even if my ol' man was dead, he still scared me. Bein' with my brother made it easier. What ya need ta do is find someone who makes it easier for ya to deal with it. Does yer mom make it easier?"

She nodded, and then winced because that caused Daryl to accidentally pull her hair. He was worried that it might have scared her, but then he relaxed when she started giggling. He even cracked a grin himself. "That hurt," she complained but still continued her laughing.

"That's what ya get fer bein' dumb," he chuckled, hoping she wouldn't take him seriously. Judging by the louder giggles, she didn't.

Once she stopped laughing, she answered his question with more than just a nod. "Yeah, momma makes it better, but..." she started but then stopped. He waited for her to continue, and after a moment she did. "But I feel sad when I think of dad around her. She used to get hurt a lot more because she wouldn't let him hit me. I don't like my momma hurting, especially if it's to protect me."

"Listen here, sweetheart, that's the way most mom's are," he said, not referring to his own mom. "Lori would take a bullet for her son, same as yer mom for you. Mom's are meant to protect their kids. It shouldn't make ya feel guilty. She's doin' her job, an' she's doin' a damn well good job at it." After taking a moment to consider what he said, he realized how sarcastic that sounded considering the fact that she was missing for as long as she was. "I mean that, too. Yer mom loves ya a lot. She's raisin' ya good and doin' her best to keep ya safe. That's all a mom gotta do, and she does even more 'an that by tryin' ta keep a smile on yer face despite all the shit y'all been through an' this geek fest we live in."

They sat in silence after that while Daryl continued to wash out her hair a little and comb it down. Thankfully her hair wasn't long so he was done shortly, for which he was grateful for. The others were sure to wake up soon and he didn't want anymore attention from anybody. "Thank you for helping me," Sophia said, turning around to hug him, "and thanks for finding me."

"Course," he said, patting her back awkwardly until she let go of him. "You should go back to yer mom 'fore she has a heart attack. Feel free ta keep that shirt and shawl until ya get into somethin' of yours. Just toss it in my tent when yer done." She nodded and, after another quick hug, ran over to her tent. He followed her with his eyes and, to his surprise, saw Carol watching him through the door of the tent with a smile on her face. When Sophia got to her, they hugged each other tight and Carol kissed her forehead before whispering something to her. Sophia disappeared inside the tent while Carol came towards him. He bit back a sigh and stood up as he waited for her.

"Thank you," she whispered, reaching a hand out to touch his arm. He stiffened slightly but she ignored it, though her grin faltered a little. "You saved her life...I don't know how I'll ever thank you."

"Just keep her safe," he grunted, wanting to end this conversation before it started, "and I'll call it even. I don't wanna go back lookin' for her again."

"I am, so, so sorr-" she began saying before he shook her arm off and cut her off.

"Don't. Okay? Just don't."

Whether it was because of the unshed tears in his eyes or the desperate tone in his voice, Carol nodded and didn't finish what she was going to say. If he wasn't ready to talk about it yet then she wasn't going to even try to make him. It was the least she could possibly do even if she thought he should talk about his loss. She knew it took a lot to make Daryl cry because of the way he carried himself, and seeing him almost cry was warning enough to back off. "Okay," she agreed, "I won't." Seeing as he was about to turn and leave, she gently grabbed his arm again and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "You know where to find me if you need me." With that, she was off.

He wasted no time returning his things to his tent and picking up his weapons. A minute later he was already deep into the woods, and he had to remind himself to slow down. He couldn't keep running blindly into situations. Besides, he was louder when he ran than when he walked and he was hunting game not walkers. He needed to be quiet in order to find some food for them. That's what he was there for afterall. He shouldn't have sat down with Sophia. She wasn't his problem. He already did more than he had to by looking for her everyday and eventually bringing her home. He didn't need to talk to her about what happened while she was out there and he didn't need to talk about either of their home lives. She didn't need to know about his dad.

Forgetting about his task at hand, Daryl dropped his weapons (having forgotten to put the gun in his pants and to sling his bow over his back) and fell to his knees with his hands gripping his thighs. His breathing came out fast and unsteady and his vision blurred around the edges. Fucking great, he thought. He was having a panic attack. He remembered how often he used to get them before Merle took it upon himself to toughen him up. He still slipped up sometimes and Merle was always there. Sure, he was a dick about it more often than not, but he brought Daryl back no matter what. Merle kept his hands on his own shoulders and talked to him quietly and always calmed him down. Sure, he called him a shit ton of names in the meantime and afterwads, but he was always there. Now he was alone and there was nothing to calm him down.

He tried to let out a frustrated scream but he just didn't have the breath in him for that. He nearly toppled over as the dizziness increased but he forced himself to remain on his knees. Daryl barely had control over the situation, but that little control started to waver as more and more thoughts of his family entered his mind. One of his first memories involved his dad and his brother. His dad advanced towards him and suddenly he was pushed back by his older brother. He watched his dad raise his belt above his head and then watched as it came down upon Merle's back. His brother screamed in agony, too young yet to control the pain. Again and again he heard the crack of the belt. Finally, Merle passed out, and his dad turned on him until he ended up the same way.

He couldn't blame his brother for what happened that day, but his brother sure as hell could blame himself. Thinking back, he realized that was the last time he ever saw his brother cry. He cried so hard and hugged little Daryl, begging for forgiveness. No matter how cruel Merle was growing up, or even after they were older, he always had his back. Always. But now he was gone and he felt so lost and alone with him. Not only that, but he had the irrational fear that his father was going to come back for him. That was impossible. His dad was buried in the ground. He never came back, not even as a walker.

He knew that if his father had become a walker he wouldn't be able to kill him. He'd be frozen in place, terrified.

He was a grown ass man. His dead old man shouldn't scare him as bad as he did. Thinking and remembering was doing nothing to help himself calm down, and he hated himself for it. He was on the brink of passing out when he sensed somebody with him, and a moment later there were gentle yet calloused hands on his wrists, pulling them away from his thighs. The throbbing on his thighs told him that he had been squeezing so hard he bruised them, and probably drew blood. He barely felt the pain, though. The only pain he felt was in his head and his chest. And his heart.

He was too tired and weak to fight back whoever was touching him. If it was his father then so be it; maybe he'd kill him this time. But then he heard a voice talking to him. This voice was younger than his dad's, more gentle and kind. It sure as hell wasn't Merle either. He couldn't place who's voice it was but he knew it was familiar, and he knew this voice meant safety. He knew he could count on this voice. He could trust it.

"Daryl, can you hear me? I need you to breathe for me, 'kay? Take a deep breath in. That's good. Real good. You're doing a good job. Try another deep breath," the voice was saying. "Ah, ah, ah, no more of that. Deep breath. Slow and deep. Good, Daryl. You're doing just fine. Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen to you. We're all safe. Everything is okay."

He realized the voice was actually doing a good job at calming him down. It was nothing like what Merle usually did, but it was probably more effective. His breathing slowed down a lot and after about five or so minutes of the voice finding him he was breathing almost normally, just a little fast but nothing horrible. It was then that he realized who the voice belonged to. "Rick?" he whispered, shaking his head to clear it of the terrifying thoughts that threatened to take control again. He couldn't risk that. He'd pass out for sure if it happened again.

"Yeah, Daryl, it's me. It's just me and nobody else," he said, still talking slow and soft. He didn't move his hand from Daryl's wrists yet, either. "Saw you running out here like the devil was after you. Couldn't let you leave alone like that. Took that risk yesterday and thought you weren't gonna come back. Couldn't handle doing that again."

"Don't need a babysitter," he grumbled, catching what Rick was saying. Rick thought he was going to off himself, and he couldn't blame him for thinking that way. He had considered in all night, and the idea wasn't totally blown off.

"You all good now? Ain't gonna pass out on me or nothing?" Rick asked carefully, releasing Daryl's wrists when he saw him eye them. He pulled his arms to himself immediately, rubbing them as if it hurt him. Rick knew it didn't though, because he didn't grab him hard at all.

"Nah, ain't gonna pass out," Daryl sighed yet made no move to stand up. Instead, he shifted so he was sitting instead of kneeling. His vision was still too blurry to chance standing, but he wouldn't tell Rick that. "Sorry ya had ta see that. Didn't think I was followed."

Rick smiled gently and followed Daryl's lead by sitting down himself. He watched the other man for a moment, hoping to see any color return to his face but being disappointed when nothing changed. He watched his chest to see just how fast he was breathing, and then he watched his hands when he realized Daryl was biting at his nails. The first day they met, Rick realized that was one of his nervous habits. Sometimes he wondered if Daryl even realized he was doing it. "I'm sure you would've heard me if you weren't panicking the way you were," he said so Daryl didn't start doubting his hunting and tracking skills. He seen the hesitant look in his eyes before he nodded shortly. "Think you can tell me what that was about? If you tell me then it'll be easier to prevent it from happening again."

Daryl let out a dry laugh. "That ain't gonna happen."

"Why not?" Rick asked, his voice soft and curious. It was out of character to say the least. Daryl decided not to question it and didn't even think about his words before talking.

"Cause ya can't change the past," he said, staring Rick directly in his eyes. "Ya can't change what happened, and I know ya would if ya could, an' that counts for somethin', believe me." Tears came back to his eyes and he choked on his words as he continued, too drained to even stop himself. "Ya just can't fix this one. No one can. Merle came close, but now he's gone." His voice cracked and he pounding his fist once on the ground. "Guess he never was good at it though."

He could tell Rick was no longer sure of what he should say. He swallowed hard and broke eye contact for a moment before looking back at him. "You should still talk about it. Talking always helps."

"Maybe someday," Daryl shrugged, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand and standing up with his gun and bow. He slipped the gun in his pants and slung his bow across his back. "But that day ain't today. You head back to the farm an' keep an eye on Sophia, okay? Keep her safe. I'm gonna hunt."

"You should take the day off," Rick said when Daryl turned his back. He sounded almost hopeful that the other man would listen without argument.

"Nah. Huntin' helps me clear my mind, plus we need food. It's a win-win situation, brother," he said, grinning at the ex cop over his shoulder. "I'll be back by dinner."

Rick didn't stop him this time as he walked away and he was grateful. He needed to be alone and collect himself. Plus there was no way he'd be able to go back into camp being in the state he was in. He couldn't let himself slip up in front of the rest of them. He was supposed to be the badass who didn't give a shit about anything, and everybody had already seen too much of his soft side. His weak side. He'd make an exception towards Sophia because he wanted to be an adult male in her life who she could trust without question. She deserved to have someone like that since Ed was so horrible at being a dad, husband, and, in general, a human being. Daryl would fill that role but not in a dad way. Maybe he could be that crazy uncle role who swore too much and made inappropriate jokes but always kept an eye on the kids. He grinned slightly at that. He fit that role perfectly. Merle would've, too, if he was nicer. And alive.

He always knew how to ruin his mood.


End file.
